


The Demon and the Underdog Strike Again!

by Mithen



Category: NXT
Genre: Arguing, Episode Tag, Friendship, Gen, Kayfabe Compliant, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6829924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smarting from his defeat at Payback 2016, Sami Zayn isn't in a good place.  Obsessed by the loss of the NXT title, neither is Finn Balor.  But at least they're in the same place for a few hours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Demon and the Underdog Strike Again!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedLeaderfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLeaderfic/gifts).



Sami Zayn slams his fist against the cinderblock wall of the Allstate Arena, hard enough that it hurts. The sensation is better than any of the other things he might be feeling. He tries to hold on to the way it had felt to hear the crowd singing to him just an hour ago, the way it had felt to come barreling into Kevin at the announce table, the clean simple righteousness of it. But the adrenaline of that has washed away, and he just feels weary. 

(The slow motion replays, over and over. The uneasy silence in the arena).

He pulls his thoughts away, trying to remember the match. But it’s all a blur now. He remembers being pinned. He remembers Kevin slapping his face, the sting of it. The insult.

He remembers watching Cesaro, distracted by his struggles with Kevin, get pinned by the Miz.

Two losses on his record tonight, really. A new low even for him.

(The stretcher going by as they wait in Gorilla. Kevin’s eyes meet his above it, appalled. In that moment they are neither friends nor foes but only wrestlers).

 _“Stop it,”_ he snarls at himself, banishing the memory from his mind again. Suddenly he needs air, he needs to get out of this arena, he needs to _not be here._

He throws the door open and heads out into the night, shrugging by security. It’s raining and he doesn’t have an umbrella: so what. What does it matter. He turns up his collar and starts walking, not knowing where he's going, not caring.

“Hey.” There’s another figure in the alley, wearing a baseball cap and a jacket. “Sami.” The clothing is unfamiliar, but the voice definitely isn’t.

“Finn? What are you doing in Chicago?”

“I, uh.” Finn’s eyes under the brim of the baseball cap flicker away from Sami’s, as if the dumpster nearby is extremely interesting. “It was your first singles match against Kevin,” he says. “And it was Cass and Enzo’s--” He breaks off. “I’m surprised you’re not at the hospital with them.”

“It was Kevin’s turn to ride with them,” Sami says. “We take turns. He insisted on going to the hospital, and it seemed...too risky to go too.”

“Too many sharp implements,” Finn agrees, almost smiling.

“So yeah. Kevin beat my ass, and now he’s with my friend in the hospital. Yay Kevin,” Sami says. “You didn’t tell me you were in town,” he adds. He starts walking through the rain, not sure where he’s going, and Finn falls into step beside him.

“Well,” says Finn. “You haven’t texted me in a while, so.” He shrugs. “Not since.”

 _Not since Lowell,_ Sami fills in. _Not since Joe took the title from me._ The rain is cold on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he says, hunching his shoulders. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“That would have done,” says Finn. “But I guess you’re really busy now, up here on the main roster and all.” 

There’s an edge to his voice that seems to lacerate Sami’s already-raw nerves. He tries to ignore it, to keep his voice steady. He doesn’t feel steady. “Well, you’ll find out soon enough,” he says. “You’ll be up here soon now, right? With your buddies, Gallows and Anderson. Styles. Maybe if I ask nicely you’ll let me join your fancy Bullet Club.”

“I… don’t think that would work,” Finn says, his voice subdued. They walk in silence for a time, the rain falling everywhere around them, soaking them. Finn’s eyes look almost unearthly in the phosphorescent streetlights. “Actually,” he says eventually, “I told Hunter I didn’t want to come up yet, if it was at all possible.” He kicks at a loose piece of pavement on the ground; it bounces ahead of them. “I’m gonna challenge Joe for that rematch.”

Sami had known it was coming, and yet somehow it seems to drive all the breath from him. His hands are shaking; he shoves them in his pockets. “Hey,” he says, as if that will make it sound more casual. Nonchalant. “It seems a shame to miss out on any chance to be up here on the main roster, but what do I know? I’m the NXT champ with the shortest reign ever; it’s sure not my place to lecture the longest-reigning champ ever on how to go about it.”

“Sami--” There’s something sharp and dangerous in Finn’s voice that Sami’s heard directed at other people, but never at him. But he can’t help it, there’s this terrible _anger_ in him that he doesn’t know what to do with, and he keeps going:

“And now you can be the first two-time champ too, that’s great for you.” The rain is crawling down his spine, cold and clammy. “Maybe you and Nakamura can be tag champions together while you’re at it.”

“It isn’t like you stuck around to keep trying,” Finn says, flat and lethal. “You didn’t make number one contender and you just _left_. You _gave up_ , Sami.”

Sami surprises himself then by turning and swinging a fist at Finn, a wild roundhouse blow that Finn dodges easily. “I didn’t give up, I moved on!” he yells. “Why should I stick around there, losing over and over--you know, maybe I’m tired of being fucking _scrappy,_ Finn, maybe I want to _win_ something for a change!”

“Oh, you’re doing great at that,” Finn snarls.

“At least I’m up here and trying, and you’re just pissing your career away in NXT when you could be up here--up here with me,” Sami says, and is horrified at the sob in his voice. “Finn,” he says, “Finn, we don’t have forever, and it could all end tomorrow--next week you might just slip, you might just be one centimeter off, and I might see you taken out of some armory on a stretcher and not know if you’re alive or dead. We only have so much time, why are you wasting it?” He’s suddenly very glad it’s raining. “We’re so finite, Finn. We’re so fucking finite.”

“Sami.” The anger is gone from Finn’s voice; he leans in and puts his arms around Sami and the rain beats down around them. “I know,” he says. “I’m worried about Enzo too.”

“God damn it,” Sami chokes out. He thumps impotent, useless fists against Finn’s back in rhythm with his words. “God damn it.”

For a long moment they stand there together, finite and in pain.

Then Finn turns his head; Sami can feel his beard scrape against his neck. “Okay, mate,” he says. “Obviously we need to do something besides hug and cry in an rainy alley to deal with this.”

“I’m not crying, you can’t prove it,” mutters Sami, and feels Finn’s laughing huff of breath against his skin. “Have you...got any ideas?”

“As a matter of fact,” says Finn, “I do.”

* * *

Kevin Owens wakes up with a start and realizes he’s nodded off on the uncomfortable hospital chair. He blinks blearily and realizes that Enzo and Cass are both in the room with him again. Cass is in a suit and Enzo is still in his blue hospital gown. They’re arguing.

“The match is _long over,_ Zo,” Cass explains as Kevin yawns and stretches. 

“Nah, man, I think we can get back in time,” Enzo says earnestly. 

“Zo, look, here’s Kev. Kev was up after us. Your match is done, ain’t it, Kevin?”

Kevin cracks his knuckles. “Over and done with for good,” he says. Cass raises a dubious eyebrow at him, and for some reason Kevin feels it necessary to repeat “For _good._ ”

“But I don’t remember the match,” Enzo says. His eyes are still a little blurry, but he looks more annoyed than injured. “Man, I don’t remember our first pay-per-view match! That _sucks!_ That sucks more than losing!”

“I don’t care about losing, I’m just glad you’re alright,” says Cass.

“Guys, I should take a picture of Enzo and post it on Twitter,” says Kevin. “People will feel better knowing you’re okay.”

“That’s...really thoughtful of you, Kev,” says Cass, looking suspicious.

“You sure you ain’t the one who banged your head?” says Enzo.

“Shut up,” Kevin says cheerfully. He’s feeling pretty good right now. He can afford to be magnanimous. He pulls out his phone and stands up, holding the phone to take a selfie that includes Cass and Enzo, who has gone back to arguing that they could still totally win this one.

The shutter clicks, and as it does, Cass suddenly makes a sputtering noise as if he’s stifling giggles.

 _”What?”_ Kevin says, swinging to glare at him. Enzo’s grinning too. Kevin feels his good mood dissipating.

Enzo reaches out and plucks something off Kevin’s back: a piece of paper, stuck there with a bit of tape. 

On it is written in big block letters, _“I’M A STUPIDHEAD! KICK ME!”_

It’s signed: _“XOXO, the Demon and the Underdog._

_“P.S. Enzo, get well soon.”_


End file.
